Awkward Situations
by XoXoXKaylaIsRawrXoXoX
Summary: Ed is stressing out about work and needs a good distraction, so Roy decides to take him out drinking to block out the pain a little.


Disclaimer - I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist

Title - Awkward Situations

Summary: Ed is upset, so Roy takes him out drinking to numb the pain a little. Oneshot.

A/N - I was inspired by the story 'Normal' by NoNAMEohmygod. Go check it out if you like this one, it should be right in my favorites!

"Roy, this stuff smells like pure alcohol, are you sure it's safe to drink?" Ed asked, opening the cap to a bottle of vodka and noticing the strong scent of the clear liquid inside. I didn't answer him, instead I crossed my legs and leaned forward in my chair, watching the young blonde open up a different bottle and put that one back as I began wondering if this was just a really bad idea to begin with. Ed was only seventeen, after all. Minors shouldn't drink. Of course, this is my house, this is _my_ kitchen, I will know what's going on. It wasn't like my youngest subordinate was out at a local bar with a bunch of strangers. He's with me.

Besides, he needed something to take his mind off of work for a while, and I sure as hell wasn't about to sleep with him. I would be put in jail _so_ fast for that, and I personally don't find someone who I've watched grow up particularly attractive. Sure, I occasionally see people staring, but I will never be one of them. So I thought of what else people do when they need a distraction. Alcohol was the next thing to come to mind. No, this wasn't a bad idea. He won't die or anything.

I was pulled out of my latest thoughts by said blonde loudly voicing his disgust about another bottle of some kind of alcohol. I took it out of his hands and read the lable. It was scotch. "Grow up, Elric." I said, "It's only scotch, and it's this or the vodka. You pick."

"Uhm..." I watched him look at both bottles like he was trying to determine the lesser of two evils, then shrug, "What are you drinking?"

I shrugged, "Scotch to begin with, I guess." I replied, "It isn't as strong as the vodka."

"Whatever floats your boat." Ed answered, then got out both bottles and placed them on the counter, looking behind them for some shot glasses. I had a few in there, but they were mostly double shots. Eventually, though, he found the right ones, and they went on the counter as well. I stood up and moved to the counter, too, starting to pour the shots while Ed put back all the glasses he'd taken out in his search. Eventually, the shots were poured, both bottles were on the table, and we were sitting in chairs opposite each other. I raised my glass and he took the hint, raising his and lightly tapping it against mine. I smirked and watched him drink the alcohol before finishing my own. He was done reasonably fast for a beginner, and I could tell because as soon as he was finished I heard him pour another.

"You like it?" I asked, placing my shot glass on the table casually.

He shook his head, "It's disgusting." He replied, then reached forward and took my glass, filling it to the top.

"I don't understand you sometimes." I said, and he laughed before he started on that one, too. It wasn't as strange as I though it would be. It almost felt normal after a couple minutes passed. Conversations began easily after Ed finished his third shot. I could tell he was pretty out of it already, but not completely wasted just yet. Either way, he was having the time of his life. Everything I said was hilarious to him.

"Are you drunk yet?" I asked, just out of curiosity.

"I don't know, am I?"

I shrugged, "As long as you're not sick." I replied.

"Not yet." He added, then took his once again empty glass and filled it up with another shot of scotch. The bottle was almost half empty. I'd had my fair share of the stuff, too, and I was getting a little more than buzzed. "So, how's life?" He asked, looking up at me and playing with the rim of his glass, his fingertips lightly running along one edge.

"I don't know." I replied.

The blonde sighed quietly, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. It was quiet for a few seconds. "Roy, if corn oil is made from corn, and vegetable oil is made from vegetables, what is baby oil made from?"

That was funny for some reason. I started to laugh, holding one hand against the side of the table so I didn't fall off my chair. "You're kidding." I said, when I thought the hysterical laughing was done, only to start up again. "Oh my god, Ed, you've had _way_ too much to drink."

"_You've_ had too much to drink." He replied, then stood up. I stood up, too, only to make sure he didn't fall. Of course he did. He took one step forward and tripped over nothing, his hand flying forward and grasping the edge of the table. He landed hard on his knees and he brought the open bottle of scotch with him. It spilled all over the floor, not to mention all over his clothes.

"Ed!" I exclaimed.

Everything went silent for a few seconds.

He looked up at me, and I looked down at him, and we started laughing again. It didn't drag on as long as the first time, when Ed asked the baby oil question, and soon I was calm enough to help the teen into a standing position. He staggered a little again, and I instictively grabbed his wrist. He fell towards me, grasping the side of my shirt. I felt something start to soak through the bottom of my shirt all the way to my knees and I realized that he was still covered in scotch. There was also a rapidly spreading puddle in the middle of the floor where we stood. I sighed loudly and overdramatically, leading him into the living room and ignoring his strange questions about baby oil and where these types of things come from. Finally, he said "Where are we?"

"The living room." I replied, "We can't be in the kitchen anymore."

"Why the hell not?" He demanded.

"Didn't you see the mess you made in there?" I asked.

"What mess?"

"The scotch you spilled all over the floor."

"I thought we were drinking vodka."

"I'm surprised you're even thinking anymore." I replied. "You're totally wasted."

Ed didn't know what to say to that, so he kept his mouth shut, much to my surprise. I could see the alcohol had soaked his clothes, large spots turning an entire shade darker then they were before. His hair was even wet from the stuff. It had a faint shine under the light. He ran his fingers through his bangs almost like he'd read my thoughts. "Why am I covered in scotch?" He asked dumbly.

I let out a short laugh. "Let's go fix that problem." I replied, "We'll have to wash your clothes."

"Yeah, and what'll I wear while they're washing?" Ed asked.

"Something of mine."

"The blonde laughed, "Yeah fucking right, Mustang. You're like a million feet tall."

"You're the one with the height problem." I replied. "It's just because you're short."

"I'm not short." Ed replied, not in the mood to continue the argument. He pulled at the sleeve of his shirt. "Ew," he murmured, "It's all sticky and gross..."

"I'll go get you something to change into." I replied, "Stay right here. Don't move. I mean it."

He just nodded in reply. I turned around and went upstairs, thinking that he'd probably get lost in my house if he even _tried_ to walk. It's not that my house is freakisly huge or anything, but it's pretty big and i've even forgotten where I was while drunk. Actually, I forgot where my dresser was in my room when I looked for something to give Ed. It wasn't a big deal though, and I found it. When I managed to make it down the stairs without falling, since I was an expert at it given all the years of drinking, I decided I wouldn't be letting Ed go up or down any stairs for the time being. He would have to sleep this off at my house, if he even _felt_ like sleeping. When I entered the living room I discovered that Ed wasn't there like I'd asked, and I was way too drunk to be playing hide and seek.

"Ed?" I asked.

He didn't answer me. I called his name again only to have the same thing happen. It was a little annoying, but then I started worrying. He was drunk. What if he somehow hurt himself? I didn't have anything to worry about, though, because I found him a few minutes later in the bathroom, sitting on the floor.

"What the hell were you thinking!?" I demanded, "I was gone for, like...three seconds, Ed. I thought I said to stay where you were."

"Oh!" Ed excalimed like something suddenly made sense, "I thought you said _not_ to stay where I was!"

I rolled my eyes, "Whatever." I replied, then held out the clothes, "Just get changed."

"Yeah, sure, hold on a second." Ed replied, then proceeded to spend the next ten minutes learning how to stand all over again. When he finally got up, I held out the clothes again, but he didn't take them.

"Ed. Take the clothes." I reminded him.

"I'm not retarded, Roy, I know what to do." He insisted, and then he took them, dropping everything but the shirt into the empty sink. We stood there for a while, and then Ed looked at me with a slightly annoyed expression on his face, like he was expecting something.

"What?"

"Get out, bastard, i'm not changing in front of you."

"Too bad. Last time I left you alone you wandered through the house and found your way into my bathroom. Knowing you, you probably could have tripped and died or something. I'm staying right here."

'"This is illegal."

"Get changed."

"No."

"Yes."

"Make me!"

I exhaled loudly, growing more frustrated by the second. He was being really immature right now. I hadn't had anyone use the 'make me' comeback on me since around my junior year of high school. That was a long time ago. "Just do it, Ed."

"This is incredibly nasty, Roy, you have _no_ idea." Ed replied, his hands touching the bottom of his shirt, then paused.

"What?" I asked.

"Um..."

"What's wrong now?"

"I don't, um, I can't figure this out. It's...it's broken or something." He managed to reply.

"What do you mean?"

"My shirt."

"You don't know how to take off a shirt." I replied, saying what he was trying to say.

"Yes I _do_, Roy!"

"Then do it."

"I just told you that I can't." I rolled my eyes for what felt like the millionth time that night before reaching over to help him. He grasped my wrists and pushed me away as best as he could. "And i'm not letting you undress me. That's even worse."

"Ed, it's so simple, just-" I tried reaching for his shirt again, but he pushed me away.

"Stop!" He nearly screamed.

"I'm not raping you or anything. Calm down."

"Roy!"

"You'll thank me in the morning, Ed, you're drunk."

"For the hundred thousandth time, I am _not_ drunk!"

"Yes, you are." I replied, and I finally grasped his shirt. He gave up entirely, falling back against the wall.

"Are you done screaming?" I asked, looking down at him.

I took his silence as a yes. He seemed a lot calmer now, and he let me take off his shirt and change him into mine. It was pretty long on him, but it fit nonetheless. When I got to the button on his jeans he stopped me.

"I can do this myself." He replied.

"Good." I replied, and I watched as he took his own hands and moved mine away, starting to unbotton the jeans himself. Before I could back away, the bathroom door swung open.

"Hey there, Colonel! I just forgot to drop off some papers! I left them on your desk upstairs so-"

All three of us froze. It was Hughes. And I was standing there about five inches away from Ed, who had his jeans unbuttoned and his hands on the zipper. His jaw dropped. Ed looked up at me and then back at Hughes. I could smell the scotch from the kitchen all the way in here.

"It's not what it looks like!" Ed exclaimed.


End file.
